


Writing Ain't easy

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drabble, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2018-09-06 19:53:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8766772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: A one-shot of Chuck and what he goes through to write and how he really hates to write depressing.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

SUPERNATURAL Writing Ain’t Easy

 

Pushing back from his desk Chuck Shurley looked up and saw through one of his windows that it was raining outside. “Well, just hell!” He said to the room. “This is going to make for a good environment to write this next frigging chapter. I’m depressed enough already from the last one and now I’ve got to go all EMO with Sam.”

 

There were times when Chuck could write comedy or some happy stuff during a period with the rain coming down. Now was definitely not the time. He sighed, this whole book had been pretty much depressing. He was dealing with Dean having flashbacks of Hell, the rack, and Alastair. All said and done it was a cocktail that needed a Xanax chaser. 

 

He sat back down at his system and started to write again when his cell phone rang. He noted that it was Dean calling. He braced himself for the onslaught of Dean’s temper and answered the call.

 

“Hello Dean.” He said flatly.

“Hello to you to. What are you writing right now?” Dean asked.

“I didn’t know you were interested.” Chuck said mildly.

“Can the bullshit Chuck. I’ve been in a pissy mood all day for no reason. I’m having flashbacks and busting ass to keep that in check. No to mention how much of an ass I’ve been with Sam.”

“Sorry Dean but I’m in the middle of writing a depressing part and it’s got me wasted.” Chuck explained.

“So you’re saying that I’m going to be in a pissy mood when you are writing depressing shit? Dude, get out for a while, go chase some tail, go to a bar and get wasted, do something, hell, walk around Wal-Mart for a while. Just do something.” He told Chuck.

Chuck took a deep shaky breath knowing how his next words were going to hit and he regretted saying them but he had to.

“Dean, you and Sam your social creatures, you can get out in the middle of a crowd and not stand out or if you do it’s in a good way. You’ve got the ability to motivate a group.” Chuck paused a moment before continuing, “Me, I’m agoraphobic, do you realize what that means?” Chuck asked.

“Yeah it means you can stand crowded scenes. But you do cons and such.” Dean responded.

“That me is drug induced, I hate taking the stuff but it keeps me calm enough to do a convention hall type gathering. It ain’t easy, I get jittery, I want nothing more than to go back to my room and hide or just come home. Usually I lose weight when I am doing conventions because I can’t eat. Well, I should say that I can’t eat the way I want to. Like normal. If I try to eat normal for me, I get real sick. There’s always some little something that rears its ugly head and causes me to freak, that’s why I’m writing depressing shit right now and considering how much of a stress point your time in Hell was, it’s no surprise that you are having flashbacks as well.” Chuck paused a moment. “Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll kill the computer for a while and rock back with some Wild Turkey.”

“Man, there’s gotta be an easier way to deal.” Dean told him. “There is, I’ve got a choice between a .380 and several bottles of pills.”

“Get wasted man, just forget about offing yourself until we can get there. You need a road trip.”

“Dean!” Chuck started.

“Fuck it, Chuck, you need a break, you’re pretty comfortable around us aren’t you?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, now that you mentioned it.” Chuck admitted.

“Good, there’s a case we’re working just South of you, we can be at your place in a couple of days and you can work this case with us.”

“Dean I’m no good at that stuff.” Chuck admitted truthfully. “I’ll be a liability to you and Sam, don’t waste your time.” 

He heard Dean sigh heavily into the phone. “No . You’re not getting out of it that easily. You’re going with us and clear you head for a while.”

“Okay.” Chuck agreed shakily. 

“Good, we’ll see you Tuesday.” Dean announced.

They hung up the call and looked at his computer, he clicked File/Save then Exit. He then logged into his facebook account and wrote an update. 

“Hi guys and gals, it your old friend Chuck just letting you know I’m going to take some time off. You see I’ve been emotionally invested in a storyline to the point that the depression I’m assigning to my characters is bleeding off onto me. I need some time to center myself and to just chill. I hope you folk will understand if I don’t write for a while or tweet. I just need some downtime. I think every writer goes through this. It’s to the point that I’m getting close, real close to writing an intensely emotional scene for Sam to Dean with Dean commenting using some mental images he has from his time in Hell that he can remember. I can’t write them without falling apart, it’s that intense. So I need to get away from this for a few days. But I can guarantee you this, this next book will be a ballbuster. See ya on the flipside. “

 

He paused a moment and reread the entry and then posted the comment to his wall, then he clicked out of Facebook and was about to shut his system down when he had an idea. He reopened his story and saved it to a flash drive, then he stuck that in his pocket and proceeded to kill an inch of whiskey left in his glass. He looked at the glass thoughtfully and went to his beat up refrigerator and opening the door grabbed a can of beer. 

 

“I’ll not be totally wasted, just mildly blotto.” He said as the image of Dean standing by the rack torturing souls for the mere job of torturing them played it way across his brain. “There’s gotta be a better way to write.”


End file.
